


Husk

by YourCompleteDemise



Category: Legend of Spyro, Spyro, Spyro the Dragon (Video Games)
Genre: Dragons, Gen, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-05 20:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16374887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourCompleteDemise/pseuds/YourCompleteDemise
Summary: The Husk was desperate to save its crumbling little world. A vessel, it was, to contain the Dragon Realms. Its hold grows weak, however, and now it's up to the next to take its place. (On long hiatus).





	1. A World of Nothing

A World of Nothing

A lonely path. That was all it ever was now. A light flickered upon it, but even that light was eaten by the blackness. The unending downpour raged on, unbeknown to the fact it was buffeting no one.

Life had been devoured here. There was only Tear's Pass, Hollowform, the remains, and the rainfall left. Nothing of note left here. Nobody.

Hundreds of years like this, where nothing passed. The Husk had been certain nothing would come by. Emptiness reigned, just the way it preferred it. There was no good anymore. No evil. Everything of the sort had been erased, like a hurricane had swept morals and memory away. Just empty.

The cobblestone crunched suddenly, a clawed foot swallowed by the puddles. The form was dark. Blinded by the dark. Made of the dark. One of the few that could survive in a damp, empty place like this. The rain had a target now.

The light slowly illuminated the creature. A dark face, yet the purple was unmistakable. Two wings, four legs, six horns, eight spikes protruding from the end of its tail. One would call him a freak if one was still there.

A dragon. It had been too long since anyone had seen one. All wiped away by the Fall. Royalty reduced to nothing, burned to a cinder by their subjects. If it had been five hundred years ago, the dragon would've been above everyone. The dragon would've been known for power and prosperity. He would've been king.

But no. Now he would be known as a creature. A mere  _thing_  in a world of nothing. But wasn't that all anyone ever was?

He looked up. The glow of the celestial moons had faded long ago. Night was eternal, just as myth had foretold long ago. Eternal darkness was cast, the Dark Master's wishes finally, for once fulfilled.

He exhaled. He knew what he had to do. The Ancestors had told him when they created him. Travelling the desolate plains behind him, he was starved of everything. Sometimes he thought he shouldn't have taken up the responsibility. He cast those thoughts away swiftly.

He shifted forward, golden amulet jingling. Ever since he had fallen, the amulet was locked around his neck. It wouldn't budge, no matter how he tried.

The dragon stumbled upon a cliff face. Long, winds howling like hounds. It looked behind itself. The light died away.

He took a breath, and then he dove.

* * *

There was agony, and then nothingness; the gloom had clouded his vision, sending him careening into the remains far below. The dragon was one of them, but only for a moment. He stood soon as though the events hadn't unfolded. He peered downwards, towards the amulet, clutching his skull. The golden hue dimmed slightly. Every death was yet another soul to cast into the amulet, and every death meant a new, stronger soul replaced it. Using the power of lives already stored, the amulet fashioned one anew from the essence stored within. It was a cycle.

The dragon sometimes thought he was no longer himself. He felt he was a husk – in fact, like  _the_ Husk. The two were similar. That was what gave him this responsibility, after all. If he was to fulfil the wishes of the Ancestors, then so be it. He would die again and again for his masters.

As he moved forward, his vision once again complete, not impaired, he noticed more light. Recently lit, he thought. Or simply a glowworm in a jar, hanging from a pole, left there for hundreds of years. The Fall had reduced almost everything in its wake to nothing, yet these little glowworms miraculously survived. With no energy source left, others would place them in bottles. These worms could survive for hundreds of years unfed. The other he'd just left behind must've passed.

"Better up there than down here," his solemn voice spoke. His voice remained hoarse too, the effects of dehydration. Water was practically non-existent here.

The path coiled around the cliff, serpent-like. He followed the glowworms, ancient cobblestone crunching beneath his paws. A skull shattered beneath his foot, but that happened too often for it to scar him.

The cold nipped at his scarred scales, as did the rain. He saw more of the glow ahead, through the dirt and stone.

Hollowform, the faded town. Nobody would be there now. He would simply walk in and raid the dilapidated homes for supplies. He didn't require anything more from them. And then it was on to the next settlement. Yet another with nobody to see.

It was a lonely path.

He reached the houses, placing a paw to his forehead to scrutinise the area. Crumbled, they were, destroyed by age and razed during the Fall. Dead was the word he used to describe it. Just like everything else.

He set his sights upon the first building, a small structure with a torn sign limply hanging from a bent pole. Most of the wording was weathered, but the words were clear enough to him.  _'Khalida's General Store,'_  and next to it, the word  _'open.'_

He didn't care for the words much; he checked the knob, and found it was unlocked. It'd be open forever at this rate. Swinging it ajar, only just fitting through with his growing body, he found a faintly lit room, more glowworms sitting on the shelf, slithering around their bottles absentmindedly. Goods lay haphazardly placed around the counter in front of him. Food on the rotting floorboards was eaten away by a tiny rat, and it seemed recently placed. But nobody could be here. Hollowform's residents were among the first to die.

He dried his scales with a mouldy towel by the windowsill. He began his search for a meal. Anything to feed his stomach; his rib cage was noticeable beneath his thin chest scales. Even that rat was a tasty morsel to him. It was the first thing he set his violet eyes upon after settling down

The rat didn't know any better. He snatched it up in his paws. It shrieked, struggling. It peered into his eyes in desperation. He licked his maw.

"Oh, you can eat anything, but don't hurt poor old Mr. Nibbles..."

He looked back, stunned to hear a voice. A girl stood at the entrance, a cheetah no less. She tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for him to discard the rat.

The dragon cleared his throat. "And you are?"

"What does it matter right now? That's my only friend you're about to devour there."

The dragon looked at the morsel, and exhaled before dropping it down next to its meal again, a slice of fresh bread. He thought about eating the bread instead, but she would've been mad. He wasn't totally heartless, but a dying world taught him to be otherwise.

"Thank you." She strode over toward the other end of the counter; she was small compared to him, but he could tell she was in adulthood. Dragons grew to a much larger size. One of the many reasons they decided to become rulers. Everyone was literally below them.

The cheetah leaned forward, resting her arms on the bench. It creaked beneath the pressure. "Now, how can I help you?"

He creased his brow, a faint smirk playing on his muzzle. "You run a store all the way out here? When nobody's left? How's business?"

"I don't really run it," she said. "I just thought it would be nice to make it my own, ya know? If you do want to spend some money on something though, I'd be glad to give it to ya."

"Not that any of the items here are yours." He knew, but he joked anyhow. Nobody would have amassed such a pile of junk by themselves. "That's theft."

She shook her head, chortling. "Nobody needs to know that. Do ya need anything, though?"

"I'm a bit hungry. Travelling around here leaves you feeling that way."

She nodded. "Oh, trust me, I know. Can't stay here forever. Need to find something to eat eventually. And bringing it all back here without it getting soaked by this downpour is a nightmare."

"Could you get me something?" he asked.

"Do you have any money?" she retorted. A moment later she grinned. "Hold on, lemme go fetch you something." Behind her counter was a cellar, and she moved down the steps in a rush. The dragon seated himself upon the floorboards; they whimpered beneath his weight. Before he could get comfortable, however, the cheetah came running back up the stairs. She had a bowl of something in her paws. He couldn't tell what the green substance was.

"What am I looking at?" he questioned as she placed it on the counter in front of him. He dipped a claw into the mixture. It stuck to his finger liked honey. Strangely enough, it had a glow to it.

"Mashed up glowworms."

"That is disgusting." He shook his head. Sure, he was hungry and could eat anything, but anything of that nature was just dreadful. Glowworm was appalling, he knew. He could go without food forever, but his bones could hardly hold his own weight at this point. He'd live, but he'd be useless.

She ignored his comment. "What brings a dragon here anyway, a purple one especially? I thought they didn't exist anymore. Apart from that Husk they talked about in stories, of course."

"They don't exist anymore, apart from me and a few others, and that Husk." He exhaled, licking the mixture off his claw tips. As he foresaw, a nasty texture, a dreadful taste. He pushed the bowl away. "I'm travelling. What brings a cheetah to Hollowform?"

"Simply an adventurer, like you then. I settled down here a while ago. I've been the world over. Or, well, I've been over whatever the world is now... My name's Khalida, if you didn't read the sign out front."

He found a soul other than his own shocking. One that was as experienced as he, truly a miracle. The fact she obviously hadn't died to a bite or a scratch or a disease yet was surprising.

"What's your name?"

He looked at her. He wasn't sure how to answer her question. "I... don't know."

Her question made himself ask more. He'd forgotten what his name was. It'd never mattered.

"I understand. Almost forgot my own once. Nobody ever spoke it. Nobody was there to remind me of it."

Saddening, he thought, to lose one's grasp on themselves like that. It'd happened to him.

"Well, how's about we come up with something cool, like..." She paused a moment, placing a claw to her muzzle. "Something cool like... Godric! Or something..."

He chuckled at it. He found it suited him. The power of gods. He was the next, after all.

"I like that."

* * *

**Oops, completely forgot to put this one here. Oh well. It's not too long anyway.**

**Here's another project I've started, inspired greatly by the likes of Hollow Knight. After finishing it twice, I had some ideas for a fic suddenly, and this was what spawned. And now I have three fics I need to finish. Great. XD**

**I hope you enjoyed this really experimental piece of writing. More very soon. I'm loving writing this at the moment.**

**By the way I've just started posting to AO3 again, finally remembering this site exists. I'll try to keep this story updated this time. :P**


	2. Descent

Descent

They called it the Black Maw for a reason. Further beyond Hollowform it lied, yet another cliff face. Sharp stalagmites jutted out of the sides of a gaping hole of surprising magnitude, like fangs on a beast. This was where the Fall had truly begun. Amongst the city of dragons, deep below the surface. Light went to die there, even before the calamitous events. If the moles were still around today, they'd enjoy the darkness.

They probably still did too. Those shifters, while having met their demise long ago, favoured it, for then there was the element of shock. After all, shifters came in all shapes and sizes.

Godric peered back. Khalida had bid him farewell after stocking up his supplies. A worn satchel by his side, a map and quill for marking down his environment as he explored, a rusty lantern without fuel, and a small compass to point him north toward Hollowform if he ever had the need to come sprinting back. He didn't feel he'd ever see the faded settlement again, though. It was all a short-lived memory, and so was the cheetah. Just another person to forget about. She'd be forgotten like the shifters dying to his claw.

A sharp wind caught him off-guard; he shivered restlessly. He stirred from his position. If there was one thing good about delving into the dirt miles below him, it would be that the winds would stop enjoying their constant attack on his spine. He'd had just about enough of the surface.

Godric kicked a small pebble from the top of the cliff face, attempting to discern the distance from his position to the bottom of the Black Maw. He waited an eternity, yet he never heard the stone clack against the bottom of the mouth.

He looked back once more. It'd be the last time he'd see the surface in a while. Not that there was much to see. The gloom, the featureless stone, the scattered remains of the long deceased. In spite of the ghastly chill, he felt he'd miss it. All this way, and now to dive into the bottom of the world, into the abyssal plain awaiting him.

He turned back. Closing his eyes, he leaped backwards, allowing whatever lay at the bottom to cushion his fall.

* * *

A crack, reverberating against the stone jaw. A mangled, limbless form. His bones slotted themselves back together, grinding. His organs, once entirely ruptured, replaced by ones created new.

The pain he felt across his form pulsed with an agonising, constant thumping. After so many dives into the unknown, he'd become accustomed to the agony such a painful landing produced, though. It was better than floating for hours, only to tire himself, and trying to control himself without source of light would end in him colliding with the ground at a force similar to this.

He fumbled in the darkness. Stories told of dragons with the ability to breathe fire, and a vast variety of other elements. He'd never seen it himself; all myth and superstition, he believed. If anything, the supposed elements were washed away by the emptiness flooding the Black Maw, or they'd descended with the Fall. He wished he had that fire at this moment.

Minutes of clutching onto rocky walls passed, and he felt an exit. A faint echo came from the direction he faced, more stones being kicked along. Tiny feet scuttling amongst the dirt and rock. Not the feet of the shifters; more bug-like.

His horns scraped along the ceiling. One already lay halved atop his crown, and the others were in the process of breaking down. Smashed under the Collector's mallet. The pain. A small price to pay for the amulet, though. It was the single thing he desired, and only to part with his appearance was nothing.

There was a hiss. Something coiled around his leg, but he was quick to pulverise it beneath his paw. Sticky, the creature was. A fluid coursed down his leg, winding. He couldn't tell what, but he had a fair idea.

He peered down, a faint glow attracting his eyesight. The creature was bright. Yet another glowworm, now splattered against his leg. Quite big, he realised; the varieties down here were feeding on those bloating mushrooms, clearly. Nice texture, bad aftertaste.

Godric pulled the lantern from his side, applying the ooze to it instead. He saw more clearly, for the first time, the muzzle of the endless tunnel before him, opening into a room of surprising size. Moving forth with speed he never utilised, he took off into the caves, for the first time excited, if only slightly.

A staircase descended by his side; shattered stone slabs, faint yellow in colour. Unless his lantern was distorting his vision, they were a remnant of Warfang. The outline of a spire in the centre was distinguishable, affirming his beliefs. Warfang had been merely a few hundred yards from Hollowform, but the great dragon city had been swallowed by the calamity in the sky, and Hollowform had been made long after that. This tower stood still, frozen in time, despite its clumsy angle.

He noted the figures resting atop its fragmented peak, next to a contraption resembling a lever. Shifters. Their golden eyes were visible beneath the cave's inky cloak. They stared straight at him, but didn't bother to make a move. Funny, they were. None looked the same, they all had different personalities, but they way they shambled mindlessly about and the tasks they continued to perform despite the Fall made them unintelligent. Like the Husk themselves, they were yet more husks. These ones were watchmen.

"They're but shadows of their former selves, that clichéd line goes," he murmured to himself. He felt the same applied to himself at times.

The shifters turned away from him, facing each other, mumbling about something from the obnoxious sounds their little traps produced. Pointless garbage, no doubt. If a shifter ever spoke, it was always of incomprehensible gobbledegook. It probably all meant something at some point, though. Back when Warfang stood tall, the proudest city built by those moles.

He paced down the staircase, and around the spire in the middle when he reached it. He spotted an outcropping at the edge of the area, yet a strange set of mechanical spikes blocked the way in a circle carved into the stone wall. His paws couldn't tear them out, not with his strength. A large creature like him was nothing without a decent meal.

There was no other way through, he realised. Behind that gate was where his destination stretched on. Coincidentally, he'd seen a gizmo at the top of the spire earlier. He exhaled, made the walk back to the spire, and began treading up the slabs.

The spire's decrepit spiral staircase cracked and cried for mercy beneath his paws. Nobody had walked on them in a long time. The shifters hadn't moved an inch since their placement there. Placing a paw to the wall showed they were brittle with age, caving in and revealing the bare insides. A soot covered his claws. Warfang, once strong, now having fallen apart by the seams. Its residents had suffered a fate akin to this spire long ago.

How long had it been, he asked himself whilst moving up those steps. It wasn't like there was anyone to tell him.

This time didn't matter, he remembered. The only time that mattered was time spent reaching the Husk.

He stopped, a figure standing below him, small and juvenile. A child, if not for the golden glow. Its eyes were more expressive than most – a sadness lingered within them, but he wasn't fooled by its artificial nature.

"H-Have you seen N-Necahual, Daddy? Sh-She was right here."

Godric pushed it to the side. He reached the top of the steps, and forgot the shifter was there immediately.

The shifters looked at him again, but didn't pay him any mind. He set the lantern down when he noticed a pack next to one of the bearded shifters. It was more ancient than the others, more of a skeleton than the rest of them, yet its hair grew wildly anyway. The others seemed to be missing any sort of fur.

Godric rummaged through the leather pack, finding nothing useful. Bread moulded by age, but nothing of worth. Once more, the shifters didn't pay him attention, unlike most. He shrugged, reaching for the lever next.

A screech, like that of a banshee's, pierced his eardrums, and swiftly he found a mangled jaw attempting to shred his paw up. He grated his fangs before kicking it off with a sudden jerk of movement. The others stood, screaming and carrying on.

He didn't allow them the first move; his tail caught a shifter rushing towards him, claws outstretched. Its brickle body disintegrated under his tail spike. The stench of shifter blood filled Godric's nostrils. He tasted it on his tongue, whatever was left of the contents of his stomach desiring an escape.

Bone crumbled to dust beneath his agility, and it was barely any time at all before they'd been dispatched. He breathed a sigh, wiped the crimson trailing down his arm away, and pulled the lever.

There was no sound, not from the gate nor the lever. No click. Of course, he'd expected the lever to open the spikes protruding from the ground, but the electricity once coursing around the streets of Warfang was no longer there.

He shrugged, now clueless as to what to do. No way forward. The gate simply had to land in a place that made the rest of the cave inaccessible. It'd take forever to bend that thick steel he'd seen.

He lifted the glowing lantern again and noticed a vague form on the ground next to the lever. Two pudgy arms and legs, and a soft stomach. A plush toy, one that looked like a child. Intrigued, he lifted it to eye level.

It would've been cute, the sopping, miserable little thing. A child probably had it. All these shifters were once denizens of the Dragon Realms. The particular kid who owned this was no different.

A gentle bump against his flank alerted him, but only when he turned to see a kid did he lay down his guard. Not hurting anyone. As innocent as a child. Even with those keen fangs, she seemed harmless.

"H-Have you seen N-Necahual, Daddy? Sh-She was right here," it said again.

He peered at the plush, then back at it. Softly, he set the toy in its outstretched paws. A smile spread across its mouth. It nuzzled and hugged its little companion.

Even he found himself smiling over the kid's happiness, however fake it was. Soon, it waddled off, back down the stairs, to wherever its home stood.

Somehow, making the long deceased happy made him feel the same.


	3. Straight Into the Abyss

 Straight into the Abyss

Just as the ooze faded, Godric had finished scribbling away on the parchment he had. Only a negligible part of these caves explored, he felt he should turn back. There was more to discern the way he'd been moving. The Black Maw wouldn't end here, inaccessible for the rest of eternity.

Without the light on him, he noticed several more sources around the caves. The glowworms were huge, slithering down the damp walls of the caverns. There was one just above him; a pained flap of his wing brought him to the height to squash the thing. The deathly rot it exuded made him quiver in disgust, but he applied it to his lantern once more and did his best to forget about the scent.

Snatching up his satchel, draping it over his side, he shifted in the opposite direction. A noise halted him, however, a whirring of slight annoyance echoing. He turned to perceive a loud click, like a pebble smacking against the maw's walls. The barbed gate screeched, rusty steel in motion once more.

He cocked his head, bewildered. A mechanism on the opposite side, no doubt, probably opened by a shifter. The spikes descended from their position. A crack – a bone snapping – he heard. The lantern brightened the floor; a puddle of red streamed down the thin crevices littering the ground.

"That should about do it. I shouldn't have impaled that body on there."

The voice, a familiar one. He knew her from Hollowform. "Khalida?"

"Hey, Godric." She stepped through the gate, a strangely goofy grin splitting her features "How are you?"

"I'm...fine. Why are you here? And how did you get through?"

"I went around, silly," she said, raising a furry brow. She set her fiery lantern down; it appeared to be quite weighty. "And I wanted to follow you, of course. Why, without some kind of guide you'd probably die, and you're the first person I've met in all of my life... Still surprised that gate works, though. It turns out the power down here is still pretty good."

He found that odd. Why wouldn't the spire's lever function properly? He questioned Khalida, and she shook her head.

"A shifter chased me through and was turned into a kebab on the way through. Its  _parts_ probably got stuck in the machine... I heard a bit of commotion out here too. Was that you? You seemed to take care of it really quickly."

He looked at her broadsword. Fresh with the bodily matter of shifters. The scent would drive a feral dragon to insanity. She seemed talented with it. "Just a few shifters. Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Okay, Mr. Confident. You might be a special dragon, but those things'll kill you if you're not careful."

Her words were rather hilarious to him. Godric decided she needn't know, though. Despised by many, the Collector hadn't amassed a good reputation before the Fall, and she would be no exception. He didn't want her to believe he was not to be trusted.

After the sky blazed, though... Could he himself trust another soul – a soul that didn't belong to him?

She started walking through the gate. He followed after a moment of staring backward. "You didn't really answer me before, you know?" she said.

"What did you ask?"

"I said I thought you guys didn't exist anymore. Anything to say on that, Godric?"

He huffed. "You've surely noticed the imbalance. I've got a place to go. Nothing else matters."

"Oh, you're one of those. Gotcha."

Simply another one of  _those_. A perfect descriptor, if he did say so himself.

Nothing special. Just another dragon fulfilling a promise to the Ancestors. There had been many before him, he knew, not one successful.

But then again, none had had the wisdom to turn to the Collector. Obvious, it was, their efforts were deemed unworthy by the darkness.

He nearly hit the wall in his thoughts, turning at the last second. Khalida strolled through the winding passage as though she knew them well. Ancient, they were, covered in fragments of a civilisation lost in time. From spires to decrepit monuments, from happiness once shared to the spread of dragon rule, it didn't matter anymore.

"I heard people used to say history was important before all this." Khalida turned to him, smiling weakly. "But after the Fall... Well, it's all pointless now. Almost everything's been wiped away, like it never existed in the first place."

He spotted the head of a statue he saw on a jagged pillar of stone. A smallish head, six horns, and the appearance of one determined. He'd recognise that familiar, feminine face anywhere, even on a stone as cracked and marked as this.

"You seem to have a fascination for this kind of stuff. I thought nothing else mattered." She winked towards him, but he wasn't annoyed by her remarks.

More saddened, really, if only the tiniest amount. Everything did that to him, though. He wasn't allowed to care for other things, like her comments. The Ancestors would find a new vessel to take his place if so.

"I wanted to be an archaeologist," she continued her ramblings, leaping over a thin ravine in front of her. Godric did so with some difficulty; having brittle bones made flying a strenuous task. "The first time I came down here, I didn't get so far, but all the different stuff made me really excited, and so I kept coming down, making it further each time. I would take the stuff up to study, but who would I teach my findings to, other than you, of course? All of that knowledge would die with me."

The passage ended, splitting off into several more tunnels, all coursing downwards. Khalida stopped close to the edge of one. All were illuminated by enormous glowworms. They certainly enjoyed the depths of the Black Maw.

"Do you know where these lead?" he questioned. "You probably know an awful lot about these caverns."

"I only know where to go 'til we reach the Queen's Seal." She peered down once more. "But yeah, I do know the way through here. They all lead to the same place."

The passages wandered vertically seemingly forever, just like the Black Maw. He'd hit the bed resting the entirety of the broken planet atop it, he thought. He felt already miles below Hollowform and the Dragon Realms. Khalida had a way back.

He would attempt to have her teach him it. But there was no going back to Hollowform. It was down here, or end his adventure. And then he'd never be trusted by higher beings again.

"So, are you going down or what?"

Godric studied her, frustrated. He didn't desire a companion on this trip. Sure, she'd assisted him in finding his way thus far, but another person was only going to slow him down.

"It's far better for you up there, Khalida." He looked towards the looming darkness they'd left in their tracks. "I don't want someone with me. This is something I need to do alone."

She sighed, smirking. "You're right. It probably is. But, hey, what's a little adventure without  _danger_ , right?"

"Stop being childish. You know where I'm going, clearly. You know your likes can't survive in there."

"And I don't really care," she retorted, never allowing the smile to fade. Its constant appearance on her features remained irritating. In the depths of the world, barren and lifeless, he didn't know how she did it. "You need someone to guide you to your destination, past the Queen's Seal. I want to go there myself too."

"I'd only feel guilt over your death down there." He seated himself. Despite his tall stature, she stood up to him, brave and strong. Afraid of nothing, she was. Not like there was anything to be afraid over anymore. Life remained like this, in a stasis of eternal waste. "...Well, if you keep annoying me like this, I'd feel nothing. Go home, Khalida. It's better up there."

"Heh, if you'll feel nothing over me dying, then there's nothing to worry about, right?" Her grin widened as she took a step backwards, teetering over the edge. "You need someone to guide you anyway, so I'll see you down there, big guy. Woo!"

Backwards, she descended, no apprehension, no hesitation. Straight into the abyss. Forever doomed, he was, to carry the burden of another life. She was right about him requiring a guide. Better she head with him than he head alone and find himself in an eternal maze of bleak caverns.

He hated the fact she was correct.

Again, for the third time that day, he dove.


	4. Ashfell Thicket

Ashfell Thicket

Godric foresaw himself shattering upon the landing, but the descent was barely twenty metres, and into a pool of water, no less. He swam to the top, shivering as he clambered out. His eyelids opened, stinging of the water once drowning them, but his gaze didn't fool him.

Green and brown, he saw, and endless amounts of it. Rubbing his eyes helped him make out shapes; long and tall, others connected to the them. He was unsure of the substance.

"C'mon, lazybones. Are we going or not?"

Khalida's voice vexed him somewhat, for he still didn't desire her presence, even knowing she was correct. Even in his thoughts, he noted the air was fresher down here. Easily breathable, unlike Hollowform's dust and ash. "Where are we?" He made an effort to get up, eyes wandering over the dense greens. "And what is that stuff?"

Khalida pulled the map straight from his satchel; he tried to swipe her grubby paws away, but her reflexes were faster than his. She began to scribble down the lake they'd fallen into.

"Ashfell Thicket, named after where all the ash and bone above... Well, fell, obviously. Not as in  _fell down_ but as in  _died._  Also named by yours truly, because I couldn't find a name for it anywhere. Really unique, it is, covered in what people used to call plants. I couldn't think of any better names, unfortunately."

He didn't bother with his map any longer; it was probably better she had it anyway, what with the vast knowledge of the caverns she had, according to her own words.

"Plants?" he asked. "Heard of them, never seen them. Are they dangerous?"

She giggled. "They don't exist anymore, except here. And no, they aren't dangerous... Well, most of them anyway. I'm sure I saw a big dragon-eating plant in this very lake..."

"What? Where?" His eyes scanned the room. Turned out she was merely joking, evident by her suppressed chortling. He narrowed his eyes in her direction. Sure, playing on the surface was fine with him - having a bit of a laugh, he could do that and smile then – but these dangerous depths were not to be scoffed at, even for one of her vast experience. Even as the amulet willed his soul back every new death, he didn't enjoy the pain. "Don't play games. I have no time for games. Just get me to where I need to be and I'll be done with you."

She continued forth, trudging through the greens and browns, occasionally swinging her old blade to clear away the overgrowth. "Don't be so serious." She pulled a sour face, but her smile returned in an instant. "Just because we're always super close to dying all the time doesn't mean we have to be so grim. Live a little, Godric."

Grumbling but no longer speaking, he walked in her direction after sipping from the pool. Soon, she began to ramble again, telling him of the plants and what she knew of the history of the thicket. He ignored her knowledge, becoming more irritated, studying the cascading water and bushy surroundings in an attempt to find something to sate his boredom. He noticed reds and purples hidden amongst the thick foliage, petalled things of surprising beauty. The rush of the waterfalls around him blocked out Khalida's vexing tone. And that scent now just pervading his senses, refreshing, one that set him at ease for the first time since his production. He could nearly taste the scent of the vegetation on the tip of his tongue.

He found himself intrigued by the atmosphere, the pleasant change to the lifeless wastes of the surface and the tongue of the Black Maw. Lush, full of life. Who would have time to tend to such things? Who would  _be there_  to tend to such things?

A shifter, perhaps, but a singular creature such as it wouldn't have the intelligence to take care of these plants. Vegetation took somebody to grow it, he heard from Khalida, despite his best efforts not to listen to her overly joyful voice.

He merely accepted it as coincidence and moved on, brushing his paw over bark and flora; the leaves were soft. Probably not good for anything, but he found them cute. From the curvy lines creasing each like cobwebs and the little hairs that littered the surface, he enjoyed them greatly. A good distraction for him.

Focusing on the flora, Godric lost track of time as the two paced on, Khalida never giving her endless commenting on their surroundings the halt it desperately desired.

* * *

"...Oh, and that one's what I call venomweed. Don't touch it. It'll leave you with rashes beneath your skin. You'll think there's bugs underneath all those scales you have."

Beneath his feet, Godric crushed another glowworm, applying its sickly insides to his lantern once again. He was becoming accustomed to the procedure, and the smell no longer irritated his nostrils. Ashfell Thicket was larger than he foresaw – Khalida continued to scribble down their surroundings with ease unsurprising to him, thankfully – and he wasn't too certain where the yellowy cheetah was leading him. She'd find her way, though.

His past captivation had become boredom in the repetitive leaves and blooming flowers, but his interest in a thicket surviving unhindered beneath the muzzle of the caverns never dwindled. Khalida treated it as if it were a normal occurrence, but he, having never seen anything but the rock and remains of many, couldn't help but express some surprise, even after treading through the leaves and flowers for many a moment.

Far more beautiful, it was, than the dilapidated corpses of old. Strange questions rose to his head, and he began to wonder how ancient these plants really were.

"Actually, how old is she...?" he asked himself quietly. Expecting an answer, Khalida turned and angled her head, smiling.

"What was that? You need to speak up. I can't hear you over my noisiness... Sorry about that, by the way. I get carried away easily."

"A rude question, probably," he started again, "but how old are you? Hasn't it been a hundred years since the Fall? I'd expect everyone else to be dead."

They paced into a glade of sorts; Godric spotted the roof of the caverns far above them, smooth, glowing stalactites hanging from above like grey lanterns – a substance the Collector had taken to calling celestial stone, and its name made complete sense. A river twisted and churned close to them, streaming from a waterfall on an incline to their left. A peace, this place had, more evident than what he felt earlier. The tranquillity was overpowering; he desired a seat amongst the trees and flowers now, a way to relax. His task didn't allow himself a tiny, insignificant pleasure such as that, however.

She looked around them for a moment before answering his question. "I'm not that old, no. I'm twenty six now... I think." With a sort of yell, she cut down a stronger vine attempting to defy the keen edge of her broadsword ahead of them. "While it is a pretty quiet world now, not all of us passed. Just, like, ninety nine point nine percent of us, you know?"

"She would happen to be correct. Not everyone's dead yet. Or a shifter, if you've ever seen them prowling about..."

Godric found a face behind him he wasn't familiar with, and clipped the top of his head with his tail spikes out of instinct. He backed away from the pudgy figure in front of him, the figure now rubbing the top of his marked skull. The dragon realised he wasn't a shifter, if only because his eyes didn't glow the gold many shifters' did.

"Ouch. Perhaps a surprise approach wasn't a good choice," the figure said, stumbling out of the bushes. "I apologise for the shock. I saw an unfamiliar face in my thicket and just had to meet you. Even if you've been destroying it with that... dastardly thing, cheetah."

Khalida approached; she continued to grin, but it held more guilt than last time. "I'm sorry. It's just so thick, you know? I can hardly get through without cutting a few vines down... Anyway, did you say this was yours? I didn't think moles liked nature."

The mole, a usually unsurprising sight as many of the shifters were this small and tubby, now quite astonishing to see, harrumphed. "We're not all tech-hoarding imbeciles. I, for one, enjoy my little thicket quite nicely."

Godric tilted his head. How odd this mole was... Not like any he thought he'd ever see. His mane of beard hair was his most prominent feature, but Godric didn't pay much mind to his appearance

"What's your name?" Khalida asked. The mole thought about it for a moment.

"I don't really remember. But you can just call me the glade master."


	5. Heartburn

Heartburn

“What a bloody hippy...”

Ironic words coming from Khalida, who had the same exact interest as this 'glade master,' only that it came to just about anything about the old world. Godric could only put a paw to his head as the group of three paced through the glade and into the the thicket once more. He wasn't sure he cared for finding the right direction quickly anymore; he'd rather go it alone, where he wasn't constantly pestered and irritated by the cheetah and now mole coming along with him. At least this master of the glade seemed content to stay inside his overgrown thicket, rather than Khalida who wished to follow him to the ends of the realms for reasons he didn't know.

She'd said she desired to guide him, to take him to where he needed to utilise his purple scales and bring the lands back from the brink of a second Fall, but he didn't know what she was obtaining out of this.

Happiness that she was helping? Was she left without anything to do? Would she rather seal her fate in these caverns than rot away in the faded town, Hollowform?

If it was the thought she wouldn't be lonely anymore, it was understandable. But she chose perhaps the worst companion.

And if it was death she desired deep within the Black Maw, he could bring her what she wanted. Something about killing her, even in spite of the annoyance she caused him, didn't sound satisfying, however.

Even if his heart had been destroyed and reforged many a time, his chest still contained that very same heart. He couldn't carry on without the amulet. Literally couldn't, for it was irremovable, he'd found.

As traumatic as losing a horn to the Collector was, immortality sure was sweet. He knew he couldn't die. That was what made him special, unlike the rest of the shifters, unlike, this glade master, unlike Khalida.

They'd all die. He wouldn't. Khalida's name for him was all he'd accept from her. He was as immortal as the gods above him, and powerful. A grim smile split his maw for a second.

“And here is what I call the heart of the forest. Hidden from the shifters, deep within the groves.”

The glade master's hoarse tone directed Godric's attention to the bulbous, throbbing thing in front of him. Over the rivers and through the trees, a heart-shaped plant beat in front of him. A gooey substance bled through several arteries on its sides, and it beat like a bass drum, twice then twice again. It filled him with a sense of familiarity.

Familiarity because he'd seen the thumping forest heart before, long ago, before he left for the remains of the Dragon Realms. Where, however, he was unsure, but he knew exactly what he was staring at.

“It's what keeps the thicket alive,” the glade master said. “Keeps my plants blooming, healthier than ever. It wants life to start again!”

Godric paced towards it, Khalida with an eye on him he could feel. She seemed to sense his familiarity. He turned to find her staring, and her features gave way to puzzlement, despite her consistent, unfading smile. He turned back, finding the glade master right in front of him. The mole looked overly cheery.

“Go on. Touch it. It wants to speak to you.”

The purple dragon obeyed somebody for the first time, if only because he was going to anyway. He knew this heart. It was a part of hers, he remembered. The queen's. Mother's.

A conversation he would have with it, he was unsure. He raised his paw; the heart seemed to beat harder, faster. A strange energy permeated his senses. There was no denying it desired something from him.

Soft, it felt. The heart beat faster still.

He closed his eyes. His own heart raced. White light bloomed beneath his eyelids and blinded him.

* * *

 

_Golden scales,a mane of white frills. She was beautiful, just like her son. She knew he was to be the vessel final vessel, though. She knew she'd have to give her child away._

_The Ancestors still believed in that dying world below them. A darkness, it held, one she wished not to allow her child unto, but one that she couldn't help but give in to. He would be back any second._

_As though on queue, the dragon of dark scales stepped into existence. The last king, before arriving on heaven's doorstep, was the one she'd chosen. It began as a mere dalliance, turning to something more quickly, and then, finally, this. She hated every demented fibre of his being. After his decisions, she'd never forgive him. Down there, he was the Husk. The heavens of the Ancestors, however, left his spirit free._

_She knew he was only a husk now, in a figurative sense. He wasn't what he used to be. That once caring, kind soul was nothing now._

_A shadow. His soul represented his spiritual form nigh perfectly._

“ _Is he ready?” the male dragon asked her. She sighed, for she didn't know, nor did she care for his words._

_The child looked up at her with violet eyes. So innocent, youthful. To have to tread the remains of the forsaken, upon the cobblestone the world had been reduced to, was too difficult a feat for one such as he._

“ _He'll never be ready,” she said, voice slick with poison. Her eyes didn't met the black dragon's. Her gaze was focused on the little one before her, staring at her, unknowing to where he was about to be sent._

“ _What did I do wrong? Since I stopped the world from dying-”_

“ _How dare you ask me what you did wrong?!” She turned, moisture coursing down the bridge of her snout. Her child stepped back, scared. “You didn't stop anything from dying! You didn't save anyone! Y-You turned them all into... into beasts! They can' hardly think, feel, and can only barely talk. You call that saving?”_

“ _I did what I had to! You were too focused on making sure it was all perfect. You would've taken too long. I made the right choice...”_

“ _The calamity in the sky disagrees with you.” She turned away again, no longer able to look at the vile dragon in front of her. Her child cried as she did, sobbing uncontrollably. She wished he didn't have to see her like this. “The elemental meteor would've stopped if you gave me a little longer. The elemental hearts would've stopped this all. The Fall, as the last of the people down there call it, never would've happened. We wouldn't be here! We'd be down there raising him... I'd be happy.”_

_The black dragon stopped a moment – the golden dragoness thought she'd finally broken through to him – but opened his mouth soon after. “You're delusional. You never could've done it. The three hearts you created. A whole lot of good those did. You grew a jungle and sealed my vessel off. That's it.”_

_One hundred years ago, four guardians, quite like the guardians of the pure elements before war waged across the Dragon Realms, summoned the meteor. Evil, they were. The Fall. It struck the ground, decimating all. It'd been her attempt to stop that, and he had ruined it all. She knew he was only desperate. But what he'd done was unforgivable._

_His attempt to 'save' their world was to contain the Fall within his physical form. He thought he could do it, and it was the only thing he wasn't wrong about. It came at a cost; blinding light had purged everyone of their senses – anyone who was looking at the meteor as it collapsed upon the world anyhow – killing most, and turning almost any left over into the beasts they were now. Such a great magical discharge had been released, one she saw coming, one he didn't care for._

_She turned to her child. Fresh tears leaked from his eyes, but she put on a smile, to reassure him. “My child,” she spoke. “When you get down there, head for the traitor. You'll know what I mean when you arrive. You need the bond of recreation. Keep yourself safe. It may seem a sweet price to pay for such power, but don't underestimate the traitor. There's always a trade off...”_

“ _We must go.” The black dragon couldn't wait any longer. The Ancestors neither, for they were impatient and would storm her rooms for the purple dragon if she did not obey. As the Husk's physical form dies, the world grows closer to its end as well._

_Really, she would rather it that way. Then nobody would suffer._

“ _Go, my child,” she said. Her child, without leaving her another word, walked off, oblivious to what he was about to face._

“ _Godspeed...”_

* * *

“Godric, get up!”

Startled awake, he found his vision purged by light, his own heart throbbing as though ablaze. He grunted and rubbed his eyes, wondering what he'd seen. He thought it was supposed to have a conversation with him. Not what this had been. Whoever the golden dragoness was, he was unsure. She'd been black...

“Godric, for fuck's sake, you've set everything on fire!”

 


End file.
